Life in the Breakdown
by shrk-bait
Summary: Certain people and certain events tend to shift the dynamics of life. Sometimes those shifts can make all the difference. An examination of James Potter's classes, commitments, and courtships as seen through his slanted, yet amusing breakdown of life.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for being unbelievably patient. I have revised most of this story and, as you can see, deleted all the chapters I had posted before. Since I have somewhat survived my first quarter in college (thank goodness), I am definitely going to get as much done as possible this next quarter. I've revised and written quite a lot for this story and I hope it meets (exceeds would be lovely) expectations. The entire thing is a bit different, so please start reading from here. I hope you enjoy it!

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**LIFE IN THE BREAKDOWN**

**By: Shrk-Bait**

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**CHAPTER 1**

Since the very young age of six, I wondered what it was and why it was so important to everyone. I first heard about "love" when my next door neighbor, Will Grussman, asked Paula Mackenzie if she would be his girlfriend. I asked him why he would do such a ridiculous thing and he gave me a strange look before saying, "I love her, stupid."

At the time, I wasn't quite keen on the concept of a "girlfriend," but being the competitor that I was, I told Jessica Thomas, my cousin's best friend, that I loved her and requested for her hand in marriage. She slapped me and declined, though my boldness earned me instant respect from all the other boys on the street.

Years later, after I had matured a bit, she became receptive to my charm.

It looked as if life was compensating me for that mortifying rejection suffered so early in my youth. Life just kept heaping on the rewards—dashing good looks, unmatched athletic ability, irresistible charm. I can't help the fact that the perfect combination of dominant and recessive alleles of my distinct parental figures resulted in the birth of none other than I, James Potter.

But that's another story entirely and I've been told that people don't enjoy diverting on tangents when being told a story.

No one really knew what love was at that age. I certainly didn't. The phrase, "I love you" meant nothing to me. They all used the word "love" to describe that queasy, fluttery, aching feeling in the pit of the stomach. I got that feeling whenever I ate Aunt Emma's cooking. That feeling was nothing but a myth meant to seduce the gullible dolts of society into a state of uneasy vulnerability and detachment from rationality. People were naïve and delusional, using adoration as quaint justification to reject reality. I would not push myself into the role of a lovesick villain, not James Potter.

I was determined never to get sucked into this foolish trend of searching the world for your soul mate. Besides, boys could not get their hearts broken—especially this one. I figured, love was overrated and no one would ever be worth the time I would have to sacrifice to find them and then convince them to fall in love with me.

Truth is, I stuck to my plan for years, drifting from one pretty girl to the next and letting go once attachment became imminent. Some cried, some pleaded, some spat in response, but I learned to separate myself from their reactions. It was better for the both of us and I had no regrets about defending my approach towards affection. That routine worked quite nicely for me until one girl came into my life— one crazy, intriguing girl. She changed everything.

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"Potter, you are selfish, infuriating, despicable, rude, snobby, and cruel. I have more adjectives—all negative—to add to that list, but I will save them for later since I'm sure you will soon find yet another way to bother me. So I must conclude once again by saying 'bugger off.'"

Strange as it may be, it was Lily Evans' constant barrage of insults that caught my attention. I wasn't self-destructive or masochistic. I was interested and that was the bottom line.

She had always been pretty, even when she was scowling. Her eyes always flecked with darker jade whenever she was angry. It was the strangest thing to have eyes that changed depending on a person's mood, but Lily's eyes did it. That was only one effect my presence seemed to have on her. While her eyes darkened, her face would always turn red, which would cause me to chuckle, which would cause her to become even angrier and even darker and even redder. She had always been pretty. Had that been her only asset, I would've lost interest within the first month of pursuit. No, there was more to Lily Evans than "pretty."

Once, she told me that I was predictable. I remember how bothered I was by that. The next day, I did something absolutely ridiculous and asked, "How was that for predictable?"

She rolled her eyes, scrunched up her mouth, breathed deeply, and walked away. It wasn't exactly the reaction I was expecting. Lily Evans was truly unlike any other girl I'd ever come across. There was just something about her that I couldn't place my finger on, something about her that drew my interest. Sometime in fifth year, I decided that I wanted to make her fall in love with me. Ironically, it was I who took the first plunge.

I clumsily tripped over my own tangled emotions and fell quite hard for her. The worst part was that I didn't even realize I was in any danger of slipping until I was far too gone to ever be brought back.

That year, my friends and I thought we were at our prime. Since our arrival at school, everyone knew we were destined for greatness. The infamous Marauders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, we were called. We were notorious for causing trouble wherever we could, making complete fools out of ourselves, and being loved for it all.

Lily's public contempt towards the Marauders was a slight setback in my master plan of wooing.

She disapproved of everything we embodied—the risk-taking, the pranking, the taunting. She hated arrogance. Remus tended to gravitate to a higher maturity level than the rest of us and thus earned a bit more respect, whereas I seemed to be the recipient of her most revolted feelings. Perhaps it was because I had taken a sort of leadership role within the group, or perhaps my persona just didn't sit right with her. All that was certain was we were always at conflicting ends of an argument, no matter what. We butted heads at every instance and muttered curses under our breath without any resolution and any end.

That was the way it was for the longest time. Lily would become dreadfully angry at one thing or another that I had done, I would tell Remus what a twat she was being, Sirius and Peter would laugh at the entire situation, and Remus would somehow convince Lily that I was sorry. She would never actually forgive me, but at least she didn't dwell on the argument. After that, life would usually realign itself into a state of opposition and mutual dislike until the next time I tested her temper (probably the next morning or afternoon if I was behaving).

So, with all this history between us, the idea that we could ever be romantically linked seemed like a complete impossibility. Two people with no common threads except for an exchanged dislike were surely not a good match. It just so happened that my courtship of Evans began as a poke at my unfailing skill of upsetting her. The boys noted animosity between us and fancied taking advantage of it to humiliate me and get a few laughs. Truthfully, I'm glad they did because the day they began to taunt me was the day I started my gradual fall towards humility and love.

"Prongs, you've got quite a bit of a fan club with Evans, don't you?" Sirius joked as I sat down on the table, metaphorically battered and bruised from a particularly volatile confrontation in the corridor with Lily Evans.

"I don't know what's wrong with that girl. I haven't done anything wrong." I pouted, ignoring Sirius' choking. "She's a madwoman."

"You and Sirius convinced a couple of second years to dress up in funny medieval costumes and blow fancy horns to announce your arrival into the Great Hall. Then you both bowed, as if it was a show. From all that, I can only suppose she thinks you've made Gryffindor look like a joke, and through association, made her and the other Prefects look like jokes." Remus suggested as he took a sip from his flask.

"I'm on your side, mate. Oh, High and Mighty James Potter, master of all mischievous mayhem, instigator of immortal infamy, protector of perpetual prankhood. Brilliant, old boy."

"Oh, but let us not forget the Honorable Sirius Black, purveyor of pleasure and perfection, giant of good-humor and games, titan of trouble and tomfoolery."

"Of course we can't forget him, that devilishly handsome rogue. Job well done, I say. Too bad you had to risk the good opinion of your lady fair to do it."

"She is not my lady fair."

"Ah, but you knew who I was referring to, did you not?"

"Well, the lady"—I said that with sarcasm—"wants a word with you, a very loud word, I bet."

"Wonderful. I'm off to meet a gorgeous girl. Don't starve yourselves on my account." He yelled as he exited the Great Hall.

"Oh, believe me Padfoot, we won't." Peter called back as he stuffed a forkful of potatoes into his mouth.

"Well, I thought it was funny, a good way to start off the year. Dumbledore needed to add the excitement to his welcoming introduction." I muttered, scraping the remains off my plate.

"It was funny!"

"It was actually a pretty harmless prank, considering our history. Lily probably forgot the damage you are capable of, not to mention the fact that she is under a bit of stress in her first Prefect year." Remus decided, his glance moving from the nearly full moon towards the doors of the dining hall, where a smug Sirius and a livid Lily had just entered. "I'm sure it'll smooth over, though, things between you two always do. Anyway, I have to talk to Dumbledore about . . . you know. See you in the common room later."

He, as usual, was probably right. Lily Evans had always been destined to become a Prefect. She was the model student and everyone knew she would probably end up as Head Girl by our last year (which she did, in fact). The only person who never seemed to know was Lily Evans. To her, nothing was in the bag. Nothing was secure no matter how many times people had assured her that Dumbledore did not take away Prefect badges over a few escaped pranksters. She seemed convinced that whatever I did would jeopardize her status and reputation. Her mind must've been an absolute blur. Sometime between when I was thinking of Lily Evans' ridiculous insistence on control and the surely confusing state of mind, Remus left the table and Peter finished half of his meal.

Not much later, Lily plopped down next to her friends and immediately began ranting with furrowed brow and fixed scowl, occasionally glancing over towards Peter and I.

"What did she say?" I asked, probably too anxiously, as Sirius returned to his seat.

"Said she loves you. Can't get you out of her head. Fancies me too. Doesn't know who to choose. Told her you snore like a Ukrainian Ironbelly. Said she'll think about whether or not that is a positive attribute." He replied briskly before finishing the food on his plate and taking the extra bit of Peter's. "I told her it probably wasn't."

Sirius always did have the nerve to make fun of me. He had convinced himself that Evans and I were perfect for each other and would make suggestive comments all the time, just to prove his point. I hated him for it, but over time, he convinced me too. Looking back, I don't think Sirius ever did me a greater favor.

"You're an ass. You know that right? Oh and if your daft mind can absorb the information, I don't love Lily Evans. I don't even like her."

"Of course, it's what gets the ladies." He smirked, rising with plate and goblet in hand. "And I think you know you do."

With one of his cheeky grins, Sirius Black sauntered away, occasionally stopping to chat with some pretty girl who happened to catch his eye.

"I don't even like her." I mumbled, glancing over inconspicuously at Lily and her friends.

"I know you don't." he assured me. "A person would have to be really dull to think that you do."

"Exactly! I mean, Evans is brilliant, in an irritating way. She's clever enough to think of a witty remark from time to time. She's actually decent looking from afar. It isn't strange for someone to be attracted to her, I suppose. Not me, though. I don't even like her."

"I know you don't."

"No. I definitely don't." I repeated again, nodding my head confidently before motioning for Peter to follow me away from the nearly empty Gryffindor table. "Plus, I would have to be unbelievably self-loathing to risk even trying to like Lily Evans."

My comment at the time was ironic to the core because whether I knew it or not, I had already begun to like her. "The Marauders" was a suitable title; we loved to gamble with our lives, doing the most reckless things at the most inconvenient times. We were thrilling and bold and intense. It was part of the charm. For me, Lily Evans was a risk. She stood between the calls of sound rationality and the cries of all the lovesick saps dragging me into their deep world of affection and feeling.

It wasn't until later that I would threaten my pride and stubbornness by taking a chance on Lily Evans. For once in my life, there were no cheat codes, no hint books, and no secret passageways. I couldn't take the easy way out because there was no easy way out.

There was Lily Evans and there was me. That was worth the risk.

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**Please review:)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Once again, thank you so much for everything. MAKE SURE TO REREAD THE FIRST CHAPTER BEFORE READING THIS ONE! Otherwise it will be horribly confusing. I changed this story a lot from what I originally meant it to be, so I just decided to scrap all that I had and repost everything. The first few chapters, I think, tend to be odd because they skip around a bit, as if James is thinking about his relationship with Lily and sporadically jumping back and forth between the actual relationship and how they ended up there. Later on it gets smoother, becoming more of a chronological story. I think I did this on purpose, but who knows why I do things anymore. Either way, thank you so much for reading! Hope you like it!

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LIFE IN THE BREAKDOWN

**By: Shrk-Bait**

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CHAPTER 2

I can't even remember when it became a necessity to always be around her. Sirius had convinced me that all I had to do was ask and she would gladly accept my advances. I should have known that she would be much harder to win over than that. I also should have known that Sirius usually gave me advice that would make me look absolutely foolish. I forgot both of these points of former knowledge and it was all downhill from there.

Over time, I began to actually get to know her, something I never expected to do. I didn't get to know girls. I spoke casually with them, but nothing too deep. They didn't know much about me either, to make things fair. If I had to choose which of my previous girlfriends I felt most connected to, I would be in quite a predicament because I wasn't connected to any of them. I was unattached and refused to allow them to cling too closely to me as either.

I didn't want to understand Evans or become friends with her or trust her. I wanted to court her. To me, there was a solid line, terribly thick, that separated the two. But apparently courting a girl required more than just knowing a basic fact sheet outlining her personal qualities. This was a surprise to me because the fact sheet method always seemed to work prior to my attempts with Lily Evans. So, I tried things the more difficult way and somewhere along the lines, Lily Evans and I became friends.

That was, of course, after multiple rejections in front of the general population of students at Hogwarts. After I'd made a complete and utter fool out of myself once, there really wasn't much to lose. So, I kept at it. Her blunt refusals, rather than deterring me or boring me, interested and irritated me. I was stubborn and kept believing that the next time would be the one. I kept thinking that she would give in. I figured that after a few persistent tries, she would just surrender and become tired of refusing me. After all, a girl only has so much stamina built up within herself to run away from such an irresistible offer.

Truly and frankly I say that Lily Evans must have had the stamina of at _least_ a hundred wild boars, because, boy, did she refuse me—over and over and over again.

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"C'mon Evans. One date won't kill you. What exactly do you have to lose?" I offered, flashing one of my incredibly swoon-worthy grins (they truly were that wonderful).

If it had been any other girl, her knees would've buckled and she would've fallen pleasantly into my ready arms. Obviously my luck had shifted for this was no other girl. This was Lily Evans, and she would rather face a thousand Unforgivable curses than let herself willingly fall into my arms. That was the way she wanted to play our game (hard to get, I have heard it being called), so I created my master scheme: to trip Lily Evans. Not literally, of course, but mentally. I would get her guard down and when the moment was right, slap her with an undeniable dose of charm and charisma. She would trip, I would be there to catch her, she would no longer hate me, and I would prove just what an incredible fellow I really was.

At least, that was how things were meant to work out. Clearly she had slightly different plans.

"Oh, Potter, if only you knew—pride, face, decency?" She spat back, giving me one of her frosty glares. "Take your pick."

"Decency, then. I've been out with plenty decent girls."

"Right, right. Well, I just happened to have heard it through the grapevine that you were connected to Kirsten Ackerly, who poured porridge on Diana Bishop's head because you were flirting with Diana in Herbology. What about Hester Baddock? What a winner right there. She attacked Justine Quirk, even though they've been best friends forever, because she thought Justine had taken your present when it was actually Janice Timms, their roommate, who took it." she listed bitterly, disgusted by my impudence. "And I could name a million others, brimming with your sort of _decency_. Petty women are the future."

"Do I smell a sense of jealousy?" I retorted, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Oh, that would be the stench of idiot—you."

"You're jealous, I knew it!"

"Right, I'm deathly jealous of you and your harem. Please kill me so that I will not suffer the sight of your other conquests anymore. I cannot bear it." She scoffed dramatically, once again turning her back to me and storming away.

I watched her depart, obviously glad to be rid of my presence. Heaving a heavy sigh, I absentmindedly ran my hands through my disheveled hair. She was a tough one to break.

"Any luck, mate?" a voice taunted from behind me, posing a question that required no verbal answer.

Sirius Black always liked to poke fun at my failed attempts of winning her over and yet, he was the one encouraging me. In our younger years, we had many unofficial competitions over trivial things—scores, Quidditch, pranks, women. I'd like very much to say that I emerged victorious every time, leaving poor Padfoot wallowing in his own self-pity. I'd like to say that my charms far surpassed his and I was the superior Marauder, but even I am honorable enough to admit a stalemate. He was a brilliant competitor, that Sirius Black.

"Shove off. You know quite well that I have absolutely no luck when it comes to that one." I snapped bitterly, pointing to my handsome features.

"So Miss Evans is still quite available. Good to know." He smirked having known me long enough to know how to irritate me. "Perhaps I'll mosey over and have a quaint chat with the saucy minx if you can't even manage to talk civilly with her."

I knew he would never truly chase her. Our friendship was far too important to jeopardize with something as inconsequential as a woman, but it brought him a sort of cruel sense of happiness to pretend as if he did really intend to pursue her.

"Don't mock him. Don't you think all those insults and rejections have injured his ego enough? I mean, honestly, being turned down over and over and over by the same girl. It must have some sort of psychological repercussion." Remus chuckled, he and Peter heading towards us.

"It's not as if I care." I shrugged, attempting to seem nonchalant. "She's just stubborn, that's all. It's only the beginning of our fifth year. She's bound to let a 'yes' slip sometime before the year ends, right?"

They glanced hesitantly at each other, wondering whether or not the question had been rhetorical or not, I'm sure. Their failure to respond disheartened me, but not to the point that I end my pursuit of Lily Evans. Eventually, she would say yes and I would figure out, once and for all, if I had any legitimate feelings for her. That was always how it worked. I won over the girl first, sorted feelings out later. In years prior to Lily Evans, I had the fortune of wooing and winning various women, some having very little in common. I was always an equal opportunity sort of person. In conclusion, they all had at least one universal thread. It was this thread, as continentally different as Lily Evans was in comparison, that connected her to me. She was interesting.

I vowed the next day that I would be the most charming I'd ever been, the most handsome man she'd ever laid eyes on, the ideal suitor for Miss Evans. I vowed that it was the day she would come to her senses and quickly accept my offer. Many, many, many refusals later and Lily Evans continued to elude me. By the end of fifth year, she had already threatened to curse me into oblivion if I didn't leave her alone, claimed that she would rather pursue a relationship with the Giant Squid over me, and permanently attached a collection of harsh insults to my name.

Of course it fazed me a bit, but instead of putting her insults to good use and making an effort to change my supposedly egocentric ways, I did quite the opposite. I sought after her even more with greater intensity and just as much arrogance. We were locked in a battle of wills, one of us bound to give in eventually. She was quite hard-headed when it came to refusing me. I'm sure she realized that if it had been any other guy, she would've won ages ago.

That was her mistake. She forgot a key point in our game—I was James Potter and James Potter never goes down without a fight. That was exactly what it had become, a fight over her heart. I never expected to have to jeopardize mine in the process.

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Sixth year was actually a pivotal point in youth, specifically because, by the end, it proved itself to be the year I began to lose qualities characteristic of a heartless rascal and adopt something resembling self-control.

In my later years at Hogwarts, for one reason or another, I changed. I didn't change for the sake of Lily Evans, if that was implied by the context. I didn't decide to all of a sudden become a better person just so she would accept my offers to Hogsmeade. Women are constantly talking about how they would never change for a man. Well, changing for another person is a tragedy shared by both sexes. Men can change for women and by doing so they lose all respect they may have had from their manly peers. People get their words confused.

I have always thought that it was perfectly acceptable—for men or women—to change _because_ of someone. Because, not for. People change because of their friends, their family, their professors, their peers, all the time. We are all constantly reinventing ourselves because of the influence someone else has presented in our lives. So why is it so socially reprehensible to change when someone new brings something new into the mix? Something better? I thought it was perfectly fine and thus, I proudly admit it—I changed because of her.

I changed because of Lily Evans.

At least, it appeared that way. Sure, it could have just been that Lily Evans fully entered my life at the same time as something else and it was the something else, not Lily, which was responsible for my personal character alterations. It was possible. It cannot all be credited to my ever-growing fascination with her. Still, I will take my chances and be bold enough to say that she was quite a large factor in my transformation.

Sixth year was the real year of maturity, at least in comparison to the previous five. It was the time of our Animagus transformation peaks, excessively dangerous dealings concerning Snape, brief row between Marauders, unavoidable choosing of career decisions, serious effort in classes, beginning of Marauder's Map, and of all things, close relationship of the Marauders in relation to Lily Evans, a sight that—above all other things—no one expected to see.

She had always been widely accepted and admired, despite the fact that she was devoted entirely to studies and school rules. Most of the time, the general public tends to dislike these sorts of people. They find rule sticklers dull, unwilling to take chances or make mistakes. People who give the impression of infallibility are met with jealousy, spite, rejection. So, it was a bit strange that Lily Evans, who appeared the epitome of flawlessness and prudery, was so well-liked by the common people of Hogwarts. They were a funny bunch because on the same side of the popularity spectrum was the Marauders—careless, impulsive, and ridiculous. They always loved us as well.

The only difference between the adoration the student body felt for us and for Lily Evans was that hers came much more naturally. She somehow managed to earn their respect without doing much but scoring well on exams and smiling whenever people passed her way. Our method was much more involved. I suppose that when boys are young, it is very important for them to assert their independence from all sorts of controls, academic or not. The four of us were prime examples of this desire. Because of Remus' denunciations as a kid, Sirius' exile from the House of Black upon becoming a Gryffindor, Peter's naturally uncharismatic nature, and my own desperate longings for a reputation unfettered by the status of my familial ties, we all silently decided that Hogwarts would be our time. It would be known as the era of the Marauders, greatest band of ruffians ever seen within the borders of England.

The best part was that it worked.

The majority of the school showered us with praise no matter what we did. Whether it was taunting Snivellus after hours or livening up a monotonous class with a cleverly amusing comment, people desperately tried to curry favor with us by any means possible. There were, of course, a select few that were not able to grasp the concept of obsequious Marauder worship. Lily Evans, always the nonconformist, being one of the select few.

One other happened to be my arch nemesis, Severus Snape, who we had wittily bestowed the callous title "Snivellus."

I hated the slimy git, proudly and publicly. There wasn't a particular incident to offer that fueled this deep loathing for the greasy-haired Slytherin. It was just our silent and mutual agreement of endless hatred. He embodied everything I despised and vice versa. So really, it was only natural for us to be enemies.

It is exceptionally difficult to describe Snape and fully capture the intense loathing of our history. He had this fanatical obsession with the Dark Arts, more so than anyone I had ever met. He fed off the power that resonated from the exploration of black magic and savored every moment of it, relishing in his own superiority and strength as he practiced it. Snape was a freak of sorts.

To be honest, I was never fond of the Dark Arts. Perhaps my distaste for it had spawned from our incompetent, malicious Professor or perhaps it just didn't suit me. Whatever the reason, I dreaded having to master it. I dreaded it so much, in fact, that I actually considered taking the regular course, as opposed to the tedious N.E.W.T level class. I envisioned the simple year I would have learning about basic defense techniques and completing busy worksheets outlining the methods of protection against the attacks of dangerous creatures or wizards. It would've been absolute bliss. My hopes were shattered once McGonagall informed me that a more advanced curriculum was required for my desired (and secret) choice of profession—being an Auror demanded extensive knowledge in most of Hogwarts' more prominent subjects, Defense against the Dark Arts and its suspiciously shady professor included.

It really was a tragedy, how the single career I had any interest in was the one taught by a man of questionable ethics and involving the darker side of the magical world that I disliked so much.

But I was proud. I wanted the challenge. It was a well known fact that Professor Hornsby hated me. He never cared for my father or my family either. He was dreadfully biased and would no doubt spend the year deducting points unreasonably and criticizing everything from my approach to defense to the way I held my wand. But it was a challenge, wasn't it? I loved a challenge. Whether or not I would end up becoming an Auror and actually needing the class was questionable. Either way, I would do it simply to test myself. With that mantra tucked closely to the functional part of my brain, I complied with the harsh demands I had subjected myself to.

Needless to say, I wasn't all that pleased at having to apply myself to succeed, that is, until a certain red-headed Gryffindor Prefect strolled briskly into practically every single one of my difficult N.E.W.T classes during my sixth year. Thank god for Auror requirements and McGonagall's guidance. I knew I always liked that loony bat.

"Potter? What the hell are you doing in this class?" a voice stuttered exasperatingly as I casually twirled my wand, the wood rotating impressively between my pointer and middle fingers.

Initially, it came as quite a shock to me that we would be enrolled in the same courses. It flustered me a bit to hear her voice, but being the quick-witted person that I am, I was able to recover my cool exterior.

"Ah, whose sweet voice is it that I hear? Who could it be? Moaning Myrtle, McGonagall, Peeves, perhaps?" I joked and cupped my ear, not bothering to look behind me, though she and I were both quite aware that I knew who was addressing me.

I predicted the sharp tonal rise in her voice, the indignant hands rested upon her hips, anger flashing at my insolence. As tradition predicted, I was right.

"You know perfectly well who this is." she spat, as I feigned ignorance and continued my mocking game. "Someone who doesn't want to get stuck sitting anywhere near you."

With that I heard her robes swish and her shoes step further away. For a moment, I considered letting her go. My pride was speaking loudly and clearly. It insisted she leave. Why should I have to change my mannerisms in order to compensate for her lack of well-rounded humor? I subconsciously mapped out the conditions of our sixth year at Hogwarts if I had let her simply walk away and continue to think me an ass. In that brief moment of contemplation, I decided to stop her.

"Evans," I spoke abruptly, causing her to cut short her huffy departure. "What say you and I try to get along this year? It is almost our last year, you know. No use letting animosity boil 'til death."

She spun around, her eyes piercing through me in hopes of acting as some sort of lie detector.

"Are you alright?" She asked as her mouth hung agape and the back of her hand flew to touch my forehead. "James Potter wants to get along with another human being?"

"Is that so strange?"

"Merlin, call the Ministry! Call Saint Mungo's!" she cried, waving her arms crazily. She was clearly a clever wit. "James Potter is trying to be civil!"

"You don't have to mock me for it."

Suddenly, she paused in her ridiculous sarcasm and shot me a bitter look, head tilted slightly downwards so her eyes resembled those of a strict primary school teacher. Staring me down, she stated quite concisely, "Please, Potter, years of dealing with your mischievous band and the destructive mayhem left in your wake gives me the right to mock you for it."

"You should at least consider the offer."

"Oh, I'll consider it, but whether or not we get along any better than we have in the past is up to you. I won't waste my time trying to make nice with someone who continues to be the central bane in my life here at Hogwarts."

"It's good to see you being optimistic and I personally feel that—"

At that point, I had every intention of telling her that I was more concerned about her keeping her old ways of prejudice against me than of me keeping my fondness for irritating her. I had plenty of people to irritate, whereas she had negative preconceptions with only me (Sirius and Peter in smaller terms). This explanation, however, was cut short by Lily Evans' harsh hushing and violent waving of hand.

"Shut up. Class is beginning."

She quickly leapt into the seat in front of me and blindly reached into her bag for our History of Magic book, though with Binns as the teacher, I couldn't imagine there being a need for preparation. He used up half the lesson time just by checking attendance anyway, but Lily Evans was Lily Evans and there was no use trying to rationalize anything she did.

That fact—that Lily Evans was, indeed, herself—was the sole reason why I believed that improving our bitter relationship between two squabbling children into a decent one between mature colleagues was not going to be a simple task.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Hey! I don't know why this took longer than I expected it to. I don't even know if people are still reading this, but I figured I would post it anyway. Thank you to the people who reviewed! This is for youuuuu. :) Please keep reviewing so I know if I should continue! Hope you enjoy it!

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LIFE IN THE BREAKDOWN

**By: Shrk-Bait

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**CHAPTER 3**

As expected, that informal pact I made with Lily Evans that first day of class in our sixth year did not last very long.

The lads and I, to kick off a sophisticated sixth year, decided that the main change and impression we should make to the school would be a classy one. Nothing showy, nothing sparkly, just simple. It was a step up from the semi-permanent state (it lasted a few weeks at the very least) of our very first imprint. That had been bold and bright and noticeable. This would be clever and refined, barely noticeable unless anyone paid much attention to the portraits of memorable contributors and alumni of Hogwarts (and the truth was, no one really did). All it needed to be was permanent. That way, we would be too.

It was aboard the Hogwarts Express that we stood poised to enter into what would be one of our last years and decided on doing something uncharacteristic and lasting. We figured that anyone who didn't know about us was a daft idiot who wasn't worth impressing. Besides that, we were getting older and if we were to become serious (somewhat) about our futures, we needed to have something more permanent, more remarkable, more subtle and developed. This next one was just the ticket. It was perfect.

On that particular date of execution, the entrance on the end of the hallway closest to the Great Hall was chaotic, kids running like chickens with their heads chopped off because it was the first week of classes and they had not yet managed to locate alternative routes to their respective rooms. The school had much educating to do, but we believed very firmly in self-education.

"Sorry, folks, but this major hallway is being closed for repairs and renovations. Please find alternative routes to your next class and I assure you that we shall be out of your hair and you will have your precious main walkway back very soon." I announced, bellowing across the panicked and complaining mass of students before us. "Good luck, study hard, and eat vegetables."

"What exactly are you doing to the hallway? Can't this happen another time?" A meddling little second year Slytherin questioned rudely. He looked a little like a toad.

"This, young man, is top secret. Strictly for our eyes only—Dumbledore appointed, don't you know? Also, he mentioned the information being especially N.F.N.B.L.Y." Sirius replied in the sternest of business tones.

"NFNBLY? What sort of code is that?" He was a snooping git, that one.

"Not for nosy brats like you. Now, scoot off to class and don't ask so many questions. They only irritate." Sirius gave the boy a clever smirk and shooed him away with his hands, winking at me in the process. The snotty kid folded his arms and ran off, I guessed, to avoid being late for class.

"Can't you just make one exception? I'm already confused enough and I don't know what Professor Hornsby will tell me if I'm late." This time the speaker was a pretty blonde first year who barely reached my shoulders in height.

"I feel your pain, honestly. I've had one too many detentions from that man alone, but you know what would happen if we let you slip by, don't you? The other students would hound us. We couldn't possibly allow exceptions. Our authority would slip. My suggestion? Start running. A dead sprint to class never hurt anybody." I replied as kindly (and yet, as harshly) as I could. The girl needed nerves to survive at Hogwarts. Weakness was not an option. Plus, it was true! A leisurely run to class was a grand idea. I myself had done it dozens of times, especially after sleepily threatening to curse anyone who woke me up and being late because of my half-conscious outburst.

"The moving staircases, they'll eat me alive! I'll never find the Charms classroom!"

"Oh, no worries, they don't eat. They only move." Sirius replied before pushing the panicked Ravenclaw aside and stepping in front of a few kids trying to sneak in through the side. "Secure the borders, Prongs. I'm off to see how the mission is progressing."

I nodded in acknowledgement as Sirius ducked behind the makeshift curtain we had constructed in order to hide the rest of the hallway from unwanted eyes. The crowd was as restless as usual.

"We'll be late for class! There's no way I can get to the dungeons without going through this hallway! The professor will kill me! I won't even live to see my first final exam!"

"Ah, sonny, that's not a reason to live for—" I assured him, about to say more before I felt a pair of very angry eyes drilling a hole into my forehead. I could only assume the worst.

"Potter! You are going to burn for this and if no one else will do it for me, I'll do it myself—painfully and slowly."

I didn't look up to meet the face threatening me, but instead turned around to make sure the curtain was still in place. In doing this, my eyes met those of Sirius Black through a break in the material. I jerked my head to the side, motioning for him to remain concealed, to finish the task, and to leave with the others before Lily realized it was more than just me. This one would be my treat.

He gave me a questioning look, clearly skeptical about the decision I'd made to sacrifice myself and play martyr at the very start of term, but with a final nudge of my head, he shrunk into the shadows of the hidden hallway. Hoping that Sirius would be able to stop Remus and Peter before they approached my side of the hall, I twisted around to meet Lily Evans, her face burning with rage. Surprise, surprise. By her side was toad-boy, quite smug and pleased at having gone crying to the nearest prefect who just happened to be Lily Evans. My luck, oh my luck.

"Are we talking Salem witch hunter slowly?" I asked, knowing perfectly well that burning witches did nothing painful at all. I had a feeling Evans knew I was joking and she didn't look too happy about it. Perhaps that was not the best time for jokes.

"No, I'm talking burning coal in the hands, dripping lava, gradual poison slowly."

"Oh, well that doesn't sound too pleasant." I winced at the thought of each and every one being forced upon me. Coal, lava, and poison weren't exactly my cup of tea.

"It won't be." She growled before magnifying her voice and announcing to the masses.

"Attention students, this is Lily Evans, one of your Gryffindor Prefects. Please find some other way to class and inform your professors that the _Marauders"_—the tone of contempt she had when saying _Marauders_ was filled with such rage and malice that I was truly frightened of what would happen to me—"were up to their usual ridiculousness. If they continue to take off points, I will speak to them personally or ask one of the Head students to do so. I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience."

She kicked away the signs we had been using as roadblocks and tore the curtain so it fell limply on the ground. In a second, she motioned for the students to pass through, starting a huge wave of scurrying little feet and smelly fresh meat that pushed both of us against opposite walls. Over the hubbub, I yelled my false confession in hopes of sparing all of us from feeling the sting of Lily Evans' fury.

"Actually, Evans, this is not really a Marauder sort of heist. Remus wanted to ask his professor something before class and Sirius is off snogging some girl in an empty broom closet before he hits the books. As for Peter, well, people rarely know where Peter is. He was probably afraid that he would be late to class (because he still doesn't know where everything is). So this was a solo attempt, not a group one. I was bored—what can I say?"

She seemed suspicious and continued to look straight at me, piercing through the crowd of hustling students who had been detained on account of our latest stunt. I smiled brightly, knowing that my offer to improve my relationship with Lily, though it had only been a day since I made the proposition, was going to suffer greatly because of this little incident.

"Well, that just makes this so much bloody better, Potter. That's absolutely swell for me. That's wonderful for all the kids you made late, for all the ones who were practically in cardiac arrest with the fear that they wouldn't make it on time to their classes. You know, some people care about those sorts of things."

"I'm sure I didn't do too much harm. They'll live, so relax." With that small comment, I saw her eyes widen in the "prepared-to-kill" sort of way and I knew that I was in for it. It was time for another row. I was ready for the worst, or what I thought was the worst. What happened was actually "the" worst, much worse than the worst I had thought was worst. It was the worst of the worst and I was completely unprepared.

"Don't you think I have enough to deal with, without having to deal with your constant irritation? Grow up—everyone else has. Have the daring to actually follow through. Keep your promises, take some responsibility. People want to go places, Potter. They want to get things done. Their lives aren't centered on jokes and pranks and silliness. They—we cannot float through life without a care in the world. We don't have that luxury. So if you aren't going to muster the maturity to accomplish something of importance in your life, why don't you, for once, piss off." She seethed, her breath shallow and cheeks flustered. "Let everyone else make a difference."

The air between us fell completely silent, though the hallway had only begun to clear of noisy students. At that moment, everything felt as if it was just the two of us and not in the romantic sense either. All I could do was stare, so furious that I was frozen by my own anger. That was it. That was what she thought of me. I was immature, irresponsible, unreliable, reckless, worthless, and so what if I was? Who was Lily Evans to pass judgment on me?

At the time, I exploded. She had no right. She didn't even know me, really, so saying all those things was clearly unjustified. It had never bothered me to be called a prat or jerk or pest. It was fine with me, mostly because I usually was at the time. All that she had said, though, had no reason behind it other than blind hatred. The only way to respond was an equally unprovoked outburst of equally blind hatred. To me, it seemed a perfectly good reaction to a completely unfair attack.

Looking back, I really was the only one to blame, but the fact that I was a stupid sixth year harboring nearly half a decade of unfriendly history led me to see it all in a much more self-centered, insensible sort of way. Being the unpredictable time-bomb I was during that part of my life, I did what all time-bombs eventually do—I blew up.

"Well that just shows how unbelievably pompous you are, Evans. Wow. Here I am with the girl who has the nerve to relentlessly criticize me for my arrogance, when she herself is unable to last one minute in conversation without insulting me with her pretentiousness. Don't you get it? We're more equal than you think and you just want to keep denying it. Believe it or not, Evans, I'm going places too. You just want to think you're better than me because you follow the rules and I refuse to be confined by them. Somehow mine is always the lower one. You are so damn full of yourself. Take a good long look in the mirror, Evans. You're not better than anyone else and you're sure as hell not better than me." I snapped coldly, my nostrils flaring quite unflatteringly and my eyebrows furrowing angrily as they have been known to do in these situations.

It was the harshest I'd been to her (possibly to anyone) and I could tell she didn't expect it the least bit. Lily blinked a bit, only to turn her eyes away and refocus on the remaining students filtering out of the hall, the students she forgot to monitor in the midst of our conflict.

It was only natural for her to be upset, but at the time I was too livid to care. I felt it was just as understandable for me to be upset. Lily basically implied that my life was worthless and the mere thought that it possibly could be sent me off the edge. The chance that stupid pranks and dodgy risks were all there was to me was a chance that I did not want to accept.

Most of all, I was angry with life. I was angry because I knew she was probably right. It was probably true. Hearing her say it, though, was an entirely different situation than simply suspecting it to be correct.

I was a person who caught attentions, made people turn their heads. Mum always said so. The only problem, she warned, was that anyone who let their life become immersed in catching attention would always end up as a person no one could ever take seriously. They would quite easily be reduced to something interesting, but trivial. A road sign, perhaps. "Two Kilometers to the Largest Pig Town in the World," or "Larry's Diner—only a half a km away!" She always warned me about those sorts of things. I laughed and told her that people were not road signs. I certainly was not.

It seemed, despite the warnings and the hints, that a road sign was exactly what I had become. To my parents, their colleagues, my fellow students, and current professors, I had become a distraction from the stability of reality. Of course, some of them hoped that I would prove to be some sort of shortcut, that I could lead to someplace of importance and substance. Still, in the end, everyone would always turn back to someone else, someone who would take them somewhere more important because they just could not take a chance on something so unpredictable, so unstable, so unsure. Suddenly, the years I'd spent building up my infamous status seemed wasted.

She left quickly once the last of the students had gone through. I don't even think she looked at me before she left. She just went. Sooner or later, I found myself alone in the hallway. Assuming the other boys had left to avoid being caught as I had instructed, I was all alone and I wanted nothing more than to just continue on my way and forget about Lily Evans. I passed the portrait line of attendees who made significant changes and contributions to Hogwarts, finally approaching the most recent. There, posted at the end, were four small individual frames arranged to be exactly the same size as the larger frames. On the bottom of each were small gold plates that read: James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew. Inside were the faces of four handsome boys, one winking, the other beaming, another smirking, and the last laughing.

We had manipulated it so that they could move us as they pleased, sliding us along the walls, but that was it. We were there to stay, our impact spanning generations and catching glimpses of millions of future Aurors, Death Eaters, Ministry workers, parents. We were there to stay. Hogwarts couldn't bring us down, not with all the magic in the world.

And right then, staring at the face of my beaming portrait, I decided that neither could Lily Evans. She could not and would not reduce me to insignificance. I would be the best I had ever been just to rub it in her smug face at the end of it all. That made me smile just a bit. I would prove it to her. I could do it.

There are some events that can be pegged as "life changing." At the time, I certainly did not consider this to be one of them, but surprisingly, it turned out to be just that. Though boiling with spite and quite unapologetic for the things I had spat back at her, I subconsciously emerged from the argument with the inexhaustible need to prove her wrong. I did not want any of those things to be true. They would not be true. She would see.

It was the beginning of sixth year, certainly not too late to put a bit of effort in and give Lily the big "ha-ha" by showing her how worthwhile my life could (and would) be. My entire focus was no longer the applause of the crowds or the cheering of students in the Great Hall. It was wholeheartedly and myopically dedicated to proving that I could succeed. I could be great. She would see. I would make sure of it.

I would study for hours, do meticulous research in the library, cut down on trickery, and pay attention (to some extent) in class. Then, in no time, I would have my success. I would have my last laugh. I would have Lily Evans, jaw dropping and head spinning. After that, all I had to do was figure out what I wanted to do with my life and I was set. Ha-ha. Piece of cake.

Of course, I didn't dwell on my thoughts for long. I wasn't too much of the sensitive, reflective type, but in fact, Lily Evans had unintentionally catalyzed my change, though she had gotten snapped and screamed at for it.

Oh well. To me, she deserved it. Ha-ha-ha.

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**Please review:)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **This is late, I know. No knife-throwing, please. My computer broke down and it took a while to get it fixed. Not to mention that I am a horrible updater and person. Anyway, thank you very much for your patience and reviews! I definitely have a decent collection of chapters (4 or so) relatively ready to be posted so expect one every week or two. Otherwise, yell at me! Oh yeah! One review said that Lily sounded mean. Well, in my experience, most girls at that age (any age, really) tend to be a little mean when bothered. Don't forget that this is James' point of view and you choose to believe him up to whatever extent you want. With that said, sorry for the wait! Hope you enjoy!

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**By: Shrk-Bait**

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**CHAPTER 4**

Upon entering Gryffindor common room, the remaining Marauders sat up from their resting positions and watched me throw myself on an empty couch in front of the fireplace. I closed my eyes for a moment and there was silence before I heard someone rise and approach.

"We owe you, mate." Sirius muttered, clamping my shoulder briefly with his hand.

"You'd do the same for me." I replied in an equally mumbled tone, rising lazily into a seated position upon the couch.

"Of course." Remus nodded convincingly, looking up at my face, which I can only imagine was worn out from all the emotion I had put forth only a few hours before.

"Thanks." Peter whispered, the same awestruck expression as he always had on, as if what I had done for him was something he could never hope to do himself. It was a face of pure admiration and insurmountable gratefulness and while it did not completely wipe away the regrettable events and the fresh wounds cut into my previously crippled relationship with Lily Evans, it would do.

Within the next hour we were traipsing the school grounds, laughing merrily about one flippant thing or the other. And that was it.

That was all we needed to say to each other about the whole ordeal because even though they knew I had a crap time dealing with Lily and a crap time dealing with all the sludge she threw upon me, that was all that they needed to say to me. The Marauders and I had this sort of unspoken vow that regardless of the dangers or risks, we would put ourselves on the front lines in a sort of suicidal manner in order to secure the safety of another. The thought behind our actions—less than a second. It wasn't necessary to think when presented with the opportunity to spare the anguish of a valued friend. It was what we did and what we had always done. It was our pact.

So, regardless of what this meant to my premature reconciliation with Evans, I had no regrets.

* * *

Shortly after, I began my campaign to upstage Lily Evans and show her (not to mention everyone else) that I was capable of so much more than they expected. I kept a close eye on her the week or so following our latest argument for the sake of observation. I figured it was only natural to monitor someone who you intended to prove wrong. 

From what I had previously gathered, Evans was not the sort who demanded attention in a crowded room, but, one way or the other, she made her presence known. She was outspoken, somehow always managing to sequester control in whatever situation she set herself to.

Lately, though, she was different. It was uncharacteristic of her to be so cold, so distracted. She was naturally a creature of involvement, always meddling and giving her opinion—wanted or otherwise—to whomever would take it. How strange it was to see her acting so unlike herself.

Remus noticed my subtle surveillance of Lily Evans and decided that I was worried about her. Ha, worried! I set him straight, rationalizing that it was because laughing in her face would not be nearly as satisfying without the pleasure of shattering her smugness. Her docility would not do. At that time, I had not yet realized how much I truly cared for our Miss Evans, nor was I willing to admit that the sight of her acting so uncharacteristically was enough to make me feel curiously guilty at the thought of it being a possible repercussion of my actions. It would be quite some time before I mustered the gall to admit anything to myself, let alone others.

What I did admit to noticing was that we didn't talk for the longest time after that incident. That was the longest period we spent in complete, unconditional separation from one another. She returned to her normal self a week or so after that, but we didn't talk. I was too proud (and faultless) to apologize and I'm guessing that she was the exact same way. So we didn't talk. We barely acknowledged each other. There wasn't really a clear cut reason why, but we both seemed to agree not to communicate.

There seemed to be a void in my daily routine from then on. She had always been there to start something or other with me, to test me and torture me. Though it is only common for masochists to wish for torture (and, to clear the air, I was not a masochist), I realized that my vendetta against her had always been a regular part of my time at Hogwarts. With my life now focused on proving myself instead of silliness and my relationship with Lily Evans now turned to deafening silence, I spent too much time in seriousness and not nearly enough time doing anything remotely interesting. Like playing pranks on deserving brats or trading witty banter with Lily Evans. For once, I didn't know what to do. I could respond easily to her snapping, but this? Her silence confounded me. I didn't have the slightest idea how to deal with her silence.

So, I sought advice. They told me everything I needed to know and all the things I neither needed nor wanted. If the Marauders were noted for being experts of something other than mischief making, it was dealing with women.

We had always been seen as infallibly knowledgeable, especially concerning the female sex. This was really rather ironic, though, because our relationships with women were not what many would or should term conventional. Sirius had no sane concept of romance or distinguishable method of attracting girls. Remus kept himself at a distance to avoid further complicating his life. Peter failed to win over any hearts worth winning over. And I, the most unconventional of all, was in love (though I did not know it at the time) with a girl for whom I claimed only to have negative feelings towards. We, like most of the men in our generation, were permanently confused by love.

Still, we were envied. To them, we had mastered the art of courtship. We could woo whomever we wanted and easily, no doubt. They would come to us for advice and we would give what we thought proper. It was quite amusing to see what some people would do for love.

* * *

"I didn't think you could act any worse around Evans, but you proved me wrong." Sirius chuckled, clapping me heartily on the back. "Kudos." 

The whole incident was quite nearly forgotten other than the silent feud between Lily and I. That was the battle wound, nothing else. We didn't dwell on things much, even in cases when we'd save each other from extreme punishment. This was extreme punishment, but none of us could afford to pay each other back in blood. We didn't have enough. The best thing to do was to say thank you that one time and let it go. So thus we went back to our ways of joking and teasing and mocking. Oh, the good times.

"Shove off, I didn't mean to yell at her. What she said must have triggered something. I lost control for a second. I snapped. I couldn't help it."

"Still, you can't say that to a girl. They take everything to heart and then they get all emotionally offended. You know, like when you ask them how much they weigh or comment on their sudden mood swings. Stuff like that is taboo. Even I know that." Peter pointed out almost gloatingly.

I rolled my eyes. I knew what he meant to imply. Peter meant to say that I was an idiot and the fact that I didn't think of her feelings first was a mistake even _he_ wouldn't dare make. It was a terrible thing, to be lectured by Peter Pettigrew. The worst part was that I knew he was right.

Girls are complex creatures, fickle as can be and terribly cruel. One never knows what to say, when to say it, or whether or not to say anything at all. For a while, I thought I had them figured out. Smile handsomely, turn on that smooth charm, catch them at the opportune moment and voila! Instant puddle of pheromones and estrogen. I never really had to consider anyone's feelings before, especially not the feelings of a woman. So, I thought, why was I braving the wilds of femininity for Lily Evans?

"Wormtail has a point. You have to learn to control your temper. You tend to lose your mind along with it." Remus drawled, flicking away a nastily colored bean from his sack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean.

"I know! I wasn't thinking. She is unbearably difficult. But why should I care if I insulted her anyway?" I huffed, storming back and forth waving my hands maniacally. "That's it. I don't care. She'll get over it eventually. Let's change the subject. How about we go for a quick game of Quidditch?"

I was actually quite accustomed to convincing myself that I didn't care about Lily. Between Sirius' blatant arguments that I had fallen in love and Remus' horrid looks that implied he knew more about my own feelings than I did, my mind was constantly telling itself that Lily Evans was just another girl in the crowd of women I would meet in my lifetime. Nothing special.

All I knew is that I felt a weird gurgling in my stomach. Not the type that comes up when someone spiked your pumpkin juice or when you ate too many treats before dinner. That shocked look she gave me after I barked at her was worth a million suspicious juice flasks and a billion pre-dinner Hogsmeade treats. Perhaps this was what everyone called guilt. I had never seriously yelled at a girl before, even one as uncommonly bothersome as Lily Evans.

"Prongs, I know your observational skills are exceptionally poor, but you can't possibly be serious. Don't you notice that it is raining, not to mention several hours past curfew?" Remus sighed exasperatedly, shifting his legs and folding them underneath him. "It's obvious that you care about Lily, so stop trying to change the subject. I'd rather we talk about it now than have to watch you mope around and hum depressing songs, which you undoubtedly will."

Then, he continued picking away at his bloody beans. The least he could've done was console me. He was, after all, the most perceptive of us all and the obvious Marauder to turn to for advice on such bothersome matters. But did he give any sagely advice? No. He did nothing more than falsely accuse me of moping and humming.

It wasn't as if Sirius was proving to be much help either. My eyes strayed to Sirius, who—during one of the times when I truly needed a friend's opinion—was balancing a chair upon its two hind legs and holding his wand in the slight dip between his nose and upper lip.

Being almost positive that Sirius would be the least amount of help to me, I turned away, leaving him to achieve whatever sense of accomplishment he would receive by mimicking the habits of a poised circus animal. So it was Peter and I, tackling the mysteries of Lily Evans and her complex emotions. For some reason, this did little to comfort me.

We sat there for nearly an hour—me ranting about how much I hated having to deal with Lily Evans and Peter beginning to doze off—until Fate threw me a bone in the very rare form of a good idea from Sirius. I learned early on that ideas originating from the mind of Sirius Black had to be taken tentatively because they often involved some sort of dangerous catch or life-threatening risk. What he considered a good idea was usually a plan that lacked any sort of preparation or afterthought. So, when Sirius announced that he had a good idea, I did not know whether to be pleased that someone thought of something or afraid that it was Sirius who had done the thinking.

"I am brilliant!" Sirius exclaimed suddenly, returning all the legs of his chair to the floor with a loud thud and raising his hands triumphantly. "I know how to solve all your problems."

"Care to share at all?"

"Not particularly. I find it much more amusing to see you squirm because your precious object of affection won't quarrel with you or pay any attention to you."

"Shut up, Sirius. I just want to know what is wrong with her. She is acting as if I told her she meant nothing and could never accomplish anything. Does she not remember that this is her fault? Does she not remember telling me how worthless I was?" I ranted hysterically. "I am going to prove her wrong, mate. She will regret saying all that. You know, I really can't stand her."

"I beg to differ, my dear Mr. Potter. You see, you're actually madly in love with her." He whispered surreptitiously, motioning for me to come closer to him. "You just don't realize it yet."

"I am not madly in love with her!"

"You say that now, but don't worry. You won't feel that way in a few months. Maybe a year if you're stubborn."

"You are infuriating!"

"And you are in love." He replied as-a-matter-of-factly.

How I wanted to tear Sirius in half at that moment, but I refrained. There were other methods of cracking Sirius Black.

* * *

We clambered into our seats on the end of the Gryffindor table furthest from the professors. It is not wise to position oneself where people of authority are located, particularly if one is most likely to act in a way that would upset aforementioned authority. That was the ideology behind our seating arrangement. 

Lily Evans—quite aware of this, I'm sure—was sitting as closely to the professors as the table allowed and as far from me as the table allowed. She planned avoidance well.

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to what my brilliant plan is?" Sirius pried, poking my arm irritatingly. Each poke grew in intensity, each prodding motion quickened in pace, until my arm had developed an uncomfortable numb portion.

"Not particularly." I responded imperturbably, ignoring the ache in my arm and sawing away at the stack of pancakes in front of me. "I'm sure it wasn't that spectacular anyway."

"Moony! Tell Prongs here how good my plan was! Tell him! It was borderline genius!"

"Deathly elementary, mind-numbingly simple, childish, I suppose. Yes, it was a good plan." Remus yawned, loosening his scarlet-gold striped tie and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

"Details, details, details, old chap. You know he would've never thought of it anyway. He can barely function when it comes to this girl. Plus, it is a very good idea."

"He's right about that, Moony. You've seen Prongs around Evans. It's always like this—" Peter put on an exaggerated goofy look, obviously with mocking intentions. "He really must fancy her."

The guys guffawed, tears of mirth streaming down Sirius' face at the sight of Peter's comical expressions and a more reserved, yet still mocking, bark from Remus.

"I do not fancy her! What is this, the thousandth time I've said that? I'm through with it. You watch—I won't talk to her. Damn the lot of you." I spat acidly, obviously riled up because I had not yet realized just how right they were and was experiencing a major case of denial.

I stood up and stormed out into the hallway, completely fed up with my friends and in need of a good Snape-taunting. It was always good to relieve anger on something as nasty and evil as Snivellus, but alas, they had followed me out of the Great Hall and caught up, despite my quickened pace. Somehow, Sirius managed to stop me and turn me around, his arm around my shoulder in brotherly fashion.

"Oh Prongs. Don't go getting all huffy about it. We were only poking a bit of fun at you. Honestly, mate, you have to learn to lighten up a bit. I'll share my plan and then you'll make up and then we'll have the normal Prongs back, alright?" Sirius clapped me on the back sympathetically, adopting a somewhat motherly tone to his voice before bursting into laughter.

I should've known that Sirius was not to be trusted with these sorts of matters. Lily Evans was driving me mad, even without speaking to me for days. The girl was clearly not worth it, but pride kept me going and pride kept me strong. Evans was expendable, pride was not.

"Go ahead, Padfoot, tell him already." Remus urged.

"Okay, okay. I'm getting to it." Sirius motioned for me to approach him. "The plan is to . . ."

By this time, I was dreadfully anxious. He'd been building it up for quite some time and I expected something beyond comprehension and contestation. I completely overestimated the advice of my friends.

"Apologize." He whispered, an eye darting back and forth to make sure the coast was clear.

"No, Padfoot, seriously, tell me." I demanded irritably, my eyes boring holes dangerously through my glasses and straight into Sirius' gray ones. Glasses only intensify laser-sight, so if it had been real, the pain to Sirius would have been real and real painful at that.

"He did." Remus chuckled at the simplicity of Sirius' brilliant plan.

"Surely you must be joking. Apologize? I've never heard anything more absurd. What if I meant every word? What if I just didn't mean to say it aloud?"

"Listen, sources tell me that girls like sensitive men. Just spit out some dung about how you were wrong and how you should've considered her feelings and how you're such a prat. That should do the trick." Sirius commanded forcefully and shoved me into the Great Hall.

"Your sources are absolutely worthless, mate! Get new ones!" I hollered as I stumbled into the Great Hall. I hesitantly scanned the area.

Perhaps Sirius was right. Perhaps all she wanted was for me to apologize. I really had meant it all, though. Every thing I said was some sort of suppressed thought I had been keeping at the back of my head. High intensity moments tended to flush all those unspoken opinions, a reason why I always tried to keep my emotions relatively under control. I had lost myself in anger and frustration and pure rage. It was up to me to fix it.

This might have been the only way to deal with Lily Evans, to restore the balance between us. I knew things would not turn out that simple. I wasn't even sure if I could follow through with the apology. She would never settle for a mere apology. There had to be more to the story—more plot twists, more climactic incidences, more drama. Simplicity was unattainable, complication habitual.

It was no wonder—complication was her forte.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** First off, thank you to all my lovely lovely reviewers. I really appreciate the reviews and feedback. I realize that this has come much later than I promised, but I'm such a forgetful girl. I can't seem to remember! If you could, remind me! The next chapter should be out soon, at least in the next week or so. Thanks for everything! I know it's short, but I hope you enjoy it!

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**LIFE IN THE BREAKDOWN**

**By: Shrk-Bait**

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**CHAPTER 5**

I stumbled further into the Great Hall, my eyes scanning for Lily Evans. I wanted to apologize and get it over with—humility was never my expertise. It was not unusual for the room to be full of life, students running about from table to table with social agendas and emotional youth raging. In my state of distress, however, things appeared to be far more chaotic for my taste.

It seemed nearly impossible to find one single person in the confusion, especially someone who seemed to be fighting desperately to avoid me. Practically giving up on the notion of an apology, I turned my attentions towards the people surrounding me, the world and the life that was captured within Hogwarts' stone walls.

A couple first years were gabbing over Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. I reminisced for a moment of younger days when Sirius would stick the snot-flavored bean up his nose and pretend as if he could mass produce snot-flavored beans. He'd matured a bit since those days. We all had and it was extraordinary to understand just how much our lives had changed simply from being at Hogwarts together.

Dumbledore was in intense conversation with McGonagall, who was nodding understandingly and occasionally surveying the passing students with a watchful eye.

Flighty girls gathered around the farthest end of the Ravenclaw table giggled annoyingly over some photo they'd been sent from home, no doubt of one of the Wizarding World's illustrious heartthrobs. I recognized a few of them and, for a moment, considered storming over there to rip the photograph into shreds. It was strange, but occasionally I felt strange inclinations to do shocking things, just to see how far I could push the people around me. Those impulses alone were how I acquired my reputation as a thoughtless and rash. Those were the moments Lily Evans hated, the moments I would feel the sudden urge to test my limitations.

Because, in fact, limitations always fascinated me.

Our house had a brick wall completely encircling the estate. When I was younger, I would do all sorts of things to try and get over it. Climb trees, pile boxes, take long jumping leads—anything to win. None of them worked and I suppose (in the back of my mind) I knew they wouldn't. Still, that didn't stop me from attempting. I came back, body bruised and clothes torn, to a disapproving mother. She would drag me to the medicine cupboard, fix me up, and give me a good whack on the head.

"James, dear, I've told you every day now to stop trying to beat that bloody wall. There's no point to it and the day you come back with your head split open, I'm going to sit here without healing you and then you'll be sorry for putting such a strain on your poor mother."

She threatened just about everything a mother could possibly threaten. I felt badly for disobeying her, but whenever I saw that wall, something in me snapped and I just had to get over it. It was a challenge and I was never the type of person to leave a challenge unconquered. She gave me the speech every time I came home hurt. No more sweets, no more flying lessons, no more healing, but I came back and she would heal me, scold me, whack me, and hug me every time.

She couldn't find the heart to follow through with all her threats. Mum must have realized my ambitious (foolish, but ambitious) desire to scale that wall, to overcome something so unmovable and great, all on my own. I knew it wasn't easy and I knew there was really no tangible point to it, but it was a goal of mine and I wouldn't let it go. I was stupidly stubborn and would not change any time soon.

Perhaps that was the incomprehensible reasoning behind my fixation upon Lily Evans. I had asked her out, knowing fully well that the answer would never change and I deliberately teased her so she would glare magnificently at me and tell me how much she hated me. Maybe that was why I continued my pursuit—I wanted to challenge those damned limits.

I was convinced that was the answer. I had not pursued her in the past for vicious or shallow reasons. My affections for her did not exceed my affections for other women towards whom I expressed interest. I did it because she was the limit and I refused to allow her to limit me.

But I had been rude. I knew Lily Evans relatively well. We had known each other since the very beginning of Hogwarts and that was nearly as long as I had known some of my closest friends. In all that time, Lily Evans had never shown a forgiving nature, but rather, a stubborn one. I would not admit it, but our natures were unexpectedly similar. It seemed that the situation called for me to rise above myself and apologize.

That was, if I could find her.

* * *

"Oomph!" I grunted from the impact of a shoulder to shoulder collision. Standing in the arched doorway of the dining hall must not have been a very good position to place myself. People were filtering past me and apparently one of them had been too focused on the tile configuration to pay attention to trivial things such as movement.

I was ready and set to verbally assault whoever had dared to shove me, especially seeing as how I was already in a particularly strange mood. Preparing to toss aside ones pride tends to do that to a person. It was not a good idea to cross someone who was clearly haunted by strange notions and impending humiliation. The boy should have learned. I intended to teach him this lesson until I decided to look up and, in looking up, realized that he was, in fact, a she. She, in fact, was Lily Evans and I immediately thought myself lucky for having looked up before making an even greater fool of myself in front of her.

She was a blushing and avoiding all the eye contact she could, choosing rather to examine the floor and fiddle with the thin bracelet on her left wrist. So I made a silent motion not to say or do those things I had been planning to do. Not because I wanted to spare her feelings or because I liked her at all, but because it wouldn't be proper for a gentlemen planning on apologizing to say such things.

I was being gentlemanly.

"Sorry, Potter. I wasn't really paying attention." She mumbled. She couldn't be more obvious with her avoidance. She practically carried with her a sign that read: "Go away. I am avoiding you, James Potter."

"S'alright. I was zoning out a bit too." It was a smooth response, capable of making the transition from unplanned apology for collision to planned apology for being a git.

"Oh, right, well, I better get going. Don't want to be late for class, you know."

The air was thick with her bluntness. That sign flashed brighter and brighter. Avoid, avoid.

"I figured as much. It's alright though. Before you go, think we can talk for a bit?" If she really wanted to avoid me so badly, I would force her hand. I would corner her.

"Well, I wanted to ask the professor something, so I sort of wanted to go earlier." She needed to be more subtle. Had I been a less secure man, I might've been offended by the lengths she was willing to go to in order to avoid me.

But I was James Potter and insecurity was beneath me.

"That's alright. You have Defense against the Dark Arts next, right? So do I. We can walk together. You don't mind, do you?" How could she say no? Yes was given. I was regaining control.

"Of course not. I have no control over when or where you walk."

It would be cake. Dealing with Evans would give me control over our relationship (if you could call it that) once again. It would be cake. Regaining control was cake. Funny how much I fancied them—cake and control, not Lily Evans, to be clear.

So we walked. She with her books clutched protectively to her chest and staring straight out in front of her; I sneaking glimpses at her to decide when the opportune apologizing moment approached. This was unusual for me. I was never one to lower myself for another human being. How was I supposed to know when this ideal point in time was? Was I supposed to talk first? How was I meant to bring it up? What if she told me to piss off? Then what?

This was why I hated losing control. There were always so many questions that I couldn't answer for myself. There was always uncertainty and confusion and drama and complications. In the case of Lily Evans, there was always silence. Irritation resulted in vehement displays of dislike, but true anger for Evans was communicated through the utmost cruelty—the Silent Treatment.

It was truly terrible to be at silent war with Lily Evans because she always won. She could outlast anyone. Though I hated to admit it, she could outlast me. I could only go so long without pestering her (pestering to test limits, not because I liked her or anything). She could go forever without turning me down. I was nearly certain that she could go forever without even speaking to me. It was a theory I had never tested, but I was ninety-nine percent sure of correctness.

My mother called it a complex. Apparently, a trait inherited from the side of my stubborn father.

"Honestly, what is it with Potter men? You can't just let things happen naturally. Everything has to be monitored. What happens when someone takes that away, James? You'll be lost! You won't know what to do with yourself!" she warned often, shaking her head affectionately as if she lectured knowing I would never change.

She was always so worried about me. It probably came with having only one child to direct all her attentions towards because no matter how frequently I consoled her, Mother was always convinced that my difficult attitude, passed down from father to son, would be the end of me.

"Oh, honestly, Mother. I will be perfectly fine. I am perfectly capable of maintaining a certain level of order in my life and I don't see that changing anytime soon."

"Whatever you say, dear."

It was true, though. I always needed to have at least some semblance of control. Waiting for someone else in order to determine my next move took me out of my comfort zone. The lack of control led to insanity, just as Lily Evans managed to do countless times.

She was constantly ripping control from my fingertips. No words escaped from her lips and that was the worst of it. I had never met anyone so utterly exhausting. Most other people in my life operated with some degree of predictability. No doubts, no further questioning, nothing. I was in control and I loved it.

I loved the feeling so much, really, that I tried to control everything, even things that could not be controlled. Things such as weather, time, and (of course) Lily Evans were frustrating aspects of life that called for unachievable order. I grumbled each time a Quidditch match was cancelled because of an unexpected storm. I cursed the swift passing of minutes when things around me seemed to go by all too quickly for my liking.

Seeking to control such independent variables became my new fascination—Lily being the most inconsistent variable of them all.

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****Please review! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Hello! I'm sorry these past few chapters haven't been very long. The next few will be longer. Promise! Anyway, I just wanted to address something that one of my reviewers brought up, the possibility that the narration in this story is too intelligent for a seventeen-year-old. First off, I think that is really funny considering that when I first started writing this (and the core of the writing has not changed much over the years), I was about fourteen or fifteen. Wow, that was a long time ago. But still, I think that people think much more than they speak and are actually much more thoughtful than they appear. Though James is by no means eloquent in his speaking (dialogue with the characters and such), his thoughts are a completely different matter. I am flattered that my writing comes off as intelligent for my age (though I don't know if I really believe it), but I would expect James (an intelligent, but young, wizard) to be quite deep one moment and completely shallow the next, especially when examining the breakdown of his own life. But that's just my take on it. Haha! Anyway, I really appreciate the reviews, as always, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Expect the next one soon!

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**LIFE IN THE BREAKDOWN**

**By: Shrk-Bait**

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**CHAPTER 6**

A couple of paces down the hall, around the corner, past the stone gargoyle and next to the portrait of some decrepit wizard examining his goatee. That was all. It took approximately three minutes and fifteen seconds to travel at a constant, leisurely stride from the Great Hall to our next class. Be that as it may, that agonizing frame of three and four minutes showed me no mercy.

As usual, Miss Evans decided that it was best not to say anything and simply wait a little longer until I finally burst out saying something incredibly stupid. I knew her little plan. I was set on defeating it. I was determined to hold out until it drove me insane. Yes, I would. That was right, I would.

"Ship me to Iceland and watch me freeze my arse off, why don't you, Evans? Bloody hell. I have never met anyone as stubborn as you. Would you just talk to me already?" I blurted, apparently having felt that I was on the brink of insanity so soon after I was determined not to break.

She turned viciously towards me or at least as viciously as turns can be. Then the classic glare. She had polished it to perfection since before I could remember. It was nice to see that her temper had not dulled since we last spoke.

"You probably don't even know where Iceland is and if you think I'm stubborn, you don't know yourself at all. Don't follow me if you're so pissed. I can't say I would miss the company."

"I didn't mean it that way. You're just frustrating and I know that you know it. The thing is, you just keep walking and walking and you don't even look up. Aren't you afraid of running into a wall? Or what about crashing into an innocent first year? What a way to scar a kid for the rest of his Hogwarts experience! Can't you just stop walking and walking and avoiding and avoiding?"

"I didn't ask you to walk to class with me, you know. You are more than welcome to walk however you wish in any other part of the school." She huffed, refusing to look at me properly.

I could've insulted her. It would've been easy. She was fighting with me once again, breaking her Silent Treatment and fueling my argumentative flame. I had a million witty jabs waiting to be put to use and flung right back at her. They were amazing ones, but then I realized that the idea was to apologize and make things better. I highly doubted that Evans would be all that receptive to a heartfelt admission of guilt after being called a "nasty wench."

Being a nice guy was hell.

"Oh bugger. You know, you're right. It's just hard for me, you know, to do this sort of thing. Because, well, you know, I'm not all that great at this type of conversation as you can probably tell."

This strange feeling—not knowing what to say and feeling completely awkward—was not on my list of mastered qualities. I hated standing there uncomfortably while trying to decide the best way to go about apologizing. Plus, I was sweating profusely. My glasses were beginning to slip and my face was, no doubt, flushed. She stared at me as if I was foaming at the mouth and about to spontaneously combust.

"Okay then. Well, you can go work on your conversational skills while I take advantage of this awkward moment and leave."

She began walking away from me, the boy who simply could not stop stuttering and sweating and fumbling and looking at the floor. I had to stop her. I wasn't about to force myself through another experience like this one. This was a one-time ordeal.

Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot. Evans walked farther and farther away from me. Action—I had to take action, but it had to be something well-planned, something witty and ingenious that would stop her in her tracks and command her attention.

Damn. I could not think. Who could think under such trying circumstances? So, all wittiness and thought aside, I settled on drastic. Quick, drastic action.

"Oh hell, Evans, I'm sorry." I bellowed, cringing momentarily. What a blow to the ego.

"What?" she stopped. I had stolen her attentions.

"I'm sorry for getting cheesed off at you. I shouldn't have hollered because you don't really know me and I can't expect you to really believe that I'm anything more than I appear to be. I suppose I appear very much like a prat. I was being stupid and I realize it now and even though you're not exactly out of blame here, you didn't really deserve to get your head chomped off by my anger. I didn't mean to lose control of myself and I shouldn't have. So that's why I'm sorry."

Well, that was it, Sirius' genius plan. I waited for her to take it all in. I could only hope that it would work. I was exhausted of options and patience.

"Well, I was a bit angry at you at first, before I had time to realize that (for once) I provoked you. So, I thought you were angry at me and I was going to apologize, but you always seemed upset and I didn't want to add fuel to the fire and whatnot. I kept trying to avoid you so you wouldn't get angrier. I should've apologized before you did," She murmured, blushing and shaking her head. "And yeah, you are a bit of a prat."

I humbled myself and there she went, questioning and calling me names and babbling about Merlin knows what. She proceeded to become red in the face and bob her head and run her hands through her hair. I didn't understand it. Was she mad still? Had she forgotten what happened? This female-speak was all too complicated for me. Girls were just weird.

"Does that mean you accept my apology, because it wasn't easy, you know. I don't go around saying stuff like that to everyone."

"But," she sighed. Why? I couldn't even guess why. Perhaps she felt defeated or maybe reluctant to forgive me. Maybe she wanted to get rid of me quickly. Guessing was futile at that point. Who knew why girls did anything? "I know, Potter. I appreciate it."

I was shocked. Sirius was a genius after all. I made a mental note to buy him chocolate from Hogsmeade on our next visit. I decided to take a risk and push a bit further with the honesty and the bluntness and the truth. It had not failed or betrayed me thus far.

"So, we're alright with each other, then?"

She stared at me for a bit. At one point, I thought maybe I had a booger hanging from my nostril and that was the reason behind her curious expression, but I checked later in the nearest boys' lavatory and I didn't. So, it was probably because girls were weird. That was the reason for every unexplainable thing they ever did. Lily Evans was a girl, so it was only expected.

"I suppose. We are as alright as we ever were, at least." She smirked.

A smirk! That bordered on a slight smile. I was forgiven. My guilt was cleared and Lily Evans no longer held firm hold on my conscience. Sirius was most certainly getting chocolate.

We nodded understandingly and parted ways. Everything was fine. Evans was normal, I was normal. We (not as a couple "we," but as a pair of completely unrelated people who could not seem to get along for very long) were back to normal.

* * *

I was never good at realizing the significance of certain events when they occurred. Someone always had to point out what they thought should have been obvious. Pinpointing important things in my life just wasn't interesting enough. I didn't bother. 

Looking back, this was probably the crucial moment of change in what some may have termed a relationship. At the time, I didn't consider it one and neither did Lily. What I have believed was a return to normalcy in our strange routine turned out to be far from what I expected. I had no idea that things would never really be "normal" between us. By apologizing, I had unintentionally gained back a sliver of respect that I had probably lost doing something stupid like teasing the first years. That had always irritated Lily, but then again, so did most of the things I did for fun.

All in all, I had no idea that contriteness had such wonderful perks. Word had spread around Hogwarts about my heartfelt apology and apparently girls found the sensitive side of James Potter quite appealing. Sirius pouted for quite some time and muttered about how it was his idea in the first place. Peter swore he heard a group of fourth years wishing there were more caring guys like me. I now had sensitivity to add to my list of positive attributes. I was becoming more and more irresistible.

So there was that and an unforeseen development: Evans was actually somewhat civil to me. Well actually, she didn't avoid me. What seemed like something so miniscule was huge for Evans and I. She went from hating my guts to not simply disliking them, but tolerating them. That was a big deal.

* * *

"Back to normal, Prongs?" Remus asked casually as I sat down at the table, failing to suppress my grin. 

"Everything's absolutely ace." Well, honestly, there was no point trying to deny it. "She doesn't loathe me, I think."

"Brilliant. You were such a bore—I wanted to strangle you." Sirius chimed in.

"Are there any drastic changes in your relationship that we should note?" Peter inquired before chomping on a few peas.

"Oh, I think she'll fancy me soon."

Remus coughed. He must've shoved food down the wrong tube. I pushed over a flask of pumpkin juice and motioned for the choking boy to take a sip. Strange thing, though. He cocked his eyebrow at me and thumped his chest twice before returning to his meal, the flask still full. Moony always was a bit off close to the full moon. He could hardly be condemned for his odd behavior.

Peter looked down at his food and hurriedly shoveled more in. It appeared as if he wanted to stuff himself so much that he wouldn't be able to say anything. I thought this was odd as well, but Peter was Peter and my friend. His oddness had grown on me by that time.

I looked over at Sirius. He was picking earwax out of his ears. I was never all that squeamish, but we were partaking in our evening meal and I did not feel too comfortable finding little earwax balls in my mashed potatoes.

"Do you have to do that?" I grunted, sliding my plate further away.

"Sorry, mate. I just wanted to make sure I heard correctly. You think Evans—alright, Lily Evans, so we won't get confused at all—will fancy you soon?" he replied in what seemed like seriousness.

"It is a possibility."

He blinked. Looked down at his food. Looked over at Lily eating. Looked back at me. Blinked again.

"I thought you said you could never like her."

"Oh, don't misunderstand. I don't like her at all. I'm just saying, logically, the next step would be for her to fancy me. She hated me, now she tolerates me, soon she'll like me. It's logic."

"Emotions aren't logical." Remus said as he rose from the table with his finished plate.

"She's beginning to like me. We haven't argued for a week at least." I picked up my half-finished plate to follow him. Sirius stuffed his last bite of potatoes into his mouth and gathered his plates, nudging Peter to follow suit.

"As if that means anything," Peter chuckled. "Lily has never argued much with me."

"That is because she knows you are not worth arguing with, Wormtail. She would win instantly." Sirius crowed, patting Peter firmly on the back.

We made our way towards the exit of the Great Hall, laughing heartily in the way all boys laugh once they are well-fed and rested. On the way, we passed Lily talking animatedly in the aisle with a girl from Ravenclaw. I did not bother to glance at the other boys because I knew exactly what they were thinking. They were challenging me—talk to her, talk to her.

"Evans." I nodded my greeting as I coolly slipped past her

"Potter." In recognition, she nodded back.

Her lip twitched a bit and then she continued talking to the Ravenclaw girl. That must've meant something. Lily Evans was a complex girl. Every action was filled with hidden meaning, I was sure. That lip twitch meant something. It had to. Everything always did with Lily.

I was never good at deciphering things and the subtle signs Lily seemed to be sending me were no exception. But I had a feeling—call it instinct—that things were looking up. Then again, considering my tumultuous relationship with Lily Evans, there was really no where to go but up.

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**Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **I know, I know, finally an update! I just want to say thank you to all my faithful reviewers. You keep me writing! I had a bit of trouble with this chapter which explains a bit why it has taken so long. I made it especially long, though! There is an explanation of what I changed and why I changed it at the end of the story (I didn't want to scare you all with a long AN at the beginning. Ha-ha!). The last few chapters have been short and uneventful, I know, but I will try (as I did for this one) to make them long. I can't really guarantee that they will be very eventful because this story isn't really just a story, but a look into James' thoughts, including a lot of his own commentary and recollections of past events and whatnot. Anyway, I will let you all get on with the reading. I hope you enjoy it!

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**LIFE IN THE BREAKDOWN**

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**CHAPTER 7**

No one wanted to take Ancient Runes, let alone the advanced class. The question of its use came up often. Then there were the dictator-like teaching methods of the professor. The high intensity level of coursework was also an issue. Above all, though, was the question of its _use_ because everyone knew (myself included) was practically worthless.

I ended up taking it my sixth year.

It worked out this way. Mum adored the subject and urged me to take the advanced class. Anything to keep a mother happy, I supposed. I whined a bit first, though. I told her it was horrid. And dull. And that I thought it would be more interesting watching flobberworms digest. And that there would probably only be a load of overachieving snots or the very small minority of those who actually enjoyed it. She told me I shouldn't base my own decisions upon those around me. I told her I abhorred the thought of being stuck with pansies all year and apparently, this offended her. She had taken it the very moment it was offered back when she was at Hogwarts.

In the end, she brought out the tricky statement (I called it blackmail) that boys without manners should not be given new, advanced brooms. So I owled McGonagall and asked her to tweak my schedule. Anything for Mum, of course.

I still hated the thought of having such terrible company for such a long time each week. I thought I could convince the others to tag along. They knew otherwise. Remus felt it better to invest his time in a subject of interest and he hated Ancient Runes. Sirius never even considered it, owing mostly to the nasty rumors of cruel coursework and deathly examinations. Peter was sure he had no place in the class and didn't want to disappoint his parents with a nasty old Troll (even he had never scored that low before, he was convinced Runes would be the place for it). It seemed as if most sixth years thought along those lines.

So Professor Doyle was left with a tiny class of about ten. It was interesting how, once again, Fate had placed me in the same room with Lily Evans. The look on her face when she realized that our sixth year course schedules were nearly identical was priceless. Braving the pains of such horrors as Ancient Runes and History of Magic was nearly worth that face.

* * *

"I've scored your latest examinations. Take a look and mull. Then, we'll talk." The Professor announced curtly as the last student scurried into his seat. The tone he took as he uttered the word "talk" was enough to ensure silence throughout the class. 

When he declared that we would be having a class discussion, everyone knew we were in for the worst. It was not a "talking" sort of class. It was the intent listening, avid note-taking, self-educating, limited conversation sort. Any mention of talking was a red flag in Ancient Runes. He clomped around in his heavy shoes in a stanch military march and dropped doom upon our desks. Dead silence fell as each receiver cringed.

"Alright, Evans?" I whispered near her ear, leaning across my desk to nudge her back gently.

She slowly pivoted, her no-nonsense face scaring the hell out of me. I returned to normal seating position. Wiggling the paper in her left hand, she raised her eyebrows and sent me an eerie fake smile. It was actually rather creepy.

"You ask me that quite a bit, always with the worst timing."

I just stared blankly at her. What did she want me to say? I figured that silence was better. She seemed upset and I don't think it would've been wise to make a joke or tease her. When Lily Evans wanted, she could be vicious. I, in all my manliness, was entirely comfortable in admitting that, when livid and worked up, Evans could be too terrifying even for me to provoke. Thankfully, she took my silence well and continued speaking vigorously about her exam.

"Of course I'm not alright. I lost a lot of sleep studying for this bloody exam. I'll even admit it. I felt relatively confident going into it, at least compared to the rest of the class. But then there were those tricks and odd twists. I just started forgetting." She groaned, banging her head softly against my desk. "No, I really don't think I'm alright. This class will be the death of me."

At the time, I had no idea what to do. Here was Lily Evans, for once, not angry at me. She seemed to be almost angry with herself, though I didn't know why. The night before, I told the Marauders about a sort of experiment I was doing, one involving Lily Evans. Though I had been slightly dizzy from the Fizzing Wizbees we picked up on our last Honeyduke's run, I think it had something to do with attempting to be civil—something along those lines. So, when Lily Evans began knocking her head on the flat of my desk like one of those toy drinking birds, I chose to put my theory into application.

"It might be the cause of all of our deaths, I think. It really was tough, wasn't it?" I nodded, scanning my parchment for corrections and such. "I'm sure you did decently, though."

I consoled her. All part of my sensitive James routine. It seemed to be working nicely. The female population was in awe of this "great transformation" that they claimed had come over me. Sirius was disgusted because it was ultimately his idea that inspired my new experimentation. I suppose I must admit that was true—partially, at least.

"Think again, Potter." She muttered, motioning for me to take her exam. "Let me see yours—trade."

She snatched my paper from my hands (rather rudely), tossed hers into my lap, and immediately frowned, following my messy scrawls with the point of her finger. I glanced at her test. It wasn't bad. It probably wasn't one of her better scores, but weighing in the facts,her score was still above average.

"This isn't that terrible of a score. You did better than most people. Look around! Emma over there looks as if she's ready to bawl. John's got that look of desire for vandalism and destruction in his eyes. You can just tell that everyone is disappointed. Doyle must be curving it if that's the case. Don't worry so much. I think everyone did poorly."

"I did worse than you so don't you dare tell me not to worry, James Potter." She pouted. "You didn't do poorly."

* * *

It just so happened that I did fairly well judging from the current morale of my classmates. I studied long enough for it. A few years ago (even just one year before), I wouldn't have bothered. I breezed through O.W.Ls in fifth year with a cool ease. I opted for nonchalant slackness, rather than strictly hard work and diligence. That way was easier—less stressful, as well.

When it came to fifth year examinations, everyone else spent their hours pouring over lecture notes and textbooks. I challenged Sirius to a tournament of Exploding Snap. Peter wanted to join us, but I think he felt he needed more assurance. He felt he needed to study. Remus, though brilliant in most aspects of life and schoolwork, did as well. Frankly, I couldn't care less. Sirius was the same.

I suppose it was wrong of me to be so careless about something so important. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I should've been more concerned. Whenever Sirius and I were wasting time, something nicked at my brain to pick up my copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _and start memorizing It wasn't until the summer before my sixth year and sixth year itself that I decided I needed to grow up—just a little bit.

Naturally, I passed all my fifth year O.W.L.S. Mostly "outstanding," with the occasional "exceeds expectations" in History of Magic and Astronomy. Not to mention the "acceptable" in Care of Magical Creatures (I _forgot_ that certain creatures were potentially dangerous if stepped on and _accidentally_ dropped one right in the path of a particularly grotty Slytherin). Fair. Not terrible. Enough to rank me as one of Hogwarts' better students. Certainly enough to consider pursuing a career as an Auror—enough, but not really up to my standard.

The truth was, I expected more of myself. I could do more.

Sirius wasn't exactly ecstatic about his marks, either. He scored a few more "exceeds expectations" and "acceptable" marks because he dozed off during the written exam or wasn't paying attention. They were stupid reasons; he knew it. He was second worst only next to Peter, but that position wasn't good enough for such a staunch competitor. Remus, having scoredbetter than I, chuckled as we sulked. Over the summer, I considered slipping itching powder into his trousers when he came to visit for the weekend.

Still, Dad was pleased. He boasted at the Ministry of his fantastic son who would undoubtedly become one of the best Ministry leaders of the century. Oh, the pressure. Mum was different, though. She was glad I earned acceptable scores, but I knew she knew Sirius and I too well. We were given a solemn lecture about application and the difficulties from that point on. We believed it too.

So, sixth year had to be different. Mum was always right, after all.

* * *

"How did you do so well? I don't understand it." Lily moped, biting her lip and glaring at my paper. She was trying to burn it with her eyes. I could feel the heat. 

"I suppose I'm just a natural genius."

She rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded remarkably like the word "typical" and then whipped around to face the front of the class once again.

I was smug, (I realized that much) but a very well deserved smug. It was the first time I was ever truly happy about a mark. It wasn't even an outstanding mark, just a good one. Even so, it was the best one I'd ever gotten.I had never applied myself in anything (besides Quidditch and what Mum referred to as "no good mischief-making"). Being pleased with the benefits that accompanied hard work was an entirely foreign concept to me. It was thrilling to be able to say—securely and confidently—that I deserved it.

"I hope I've given you all sufficient time to look over your examinations. I have to admit, I'm disappointed. You are supposed to be N.E.W.T students, the brightest, the elite. This was not quality work. I expect more." He pursed his lips. His face said it all. Words only added to the sting. We writhed with guilt. "Perhaps I am not teaching you all you need to know. Or maybe it is all too difficult to be self-sufficient in such a challenging class. I've thought this over and decided on holding weekly mandatory study group sessions, some with my supervision, others without it. I have the times and dates set up for the first meeting, but the rest will be organized by your own groups according to your schedules. All that's left is splitting the class into groups. I'd say two groups of four, one group of three."

Everyone quickly looked around the room, silently planning the makings of a group. Lily's head spun faster than anyone else. I knew she was deducing and analyzing: which classmates would be most advantageous to be with in a group? She glanced back at me. I gave her a funny look because she rarely looked back at me. She greeted me with an equally perplexed face and then spun around before I could open my mouth to speak. Odd girl.

Meanwhile, Doyle rummaged around and pulled out a clipboard. "First group: Potter, Ackerley, Baddock, and . . ." he paused and scrunched up his face. "O'Leary."

Lily Evans straightened up just a bit. Then, (quite to my surprise) she flung her arm into the air and wiggled her knee impatiently. Strange one, that Evans. The professor motioned for her to speak, probably wondering what she could possibly be questioning. I did not pay much attention to it because she asked many questions and raised her hand often.

"Excuse me for interrupting, Professor, but don't you think it would be best for the House members to be in the same group, if possible? I don't mean to question your system, but I think it would be easier for us to coordinate schedules and communicate if we had other group members in our House," She proposed promptly. "For academic support and whatnot."

If possible, my jaw would have fallen to the floor the moment she made her suggestion.

"Yes, that makes sense. Fine then, the first group will consist of Potter, Gregory, and Evans. Next will be..."

My hearing left me for a moment after that. I didn't even hear the other group assignments, not that they meant anything to me. The bottom of all bottom lines was that Lily Evans wanted me in her group. The same Lily Evans who swore at the prospect of being enrolled in my classes, sat as far away as she could manage in the dining hall, and, despite civil appearances, often fought the urge to turn me into a toad. I checked my vitals just to be sure that neither blood nor oxygen had been cut off from my brain.

For years I raised my voice just a little louder when she was near with the hope that she would catch a bit of our conversation and be intrigued by its contents. I glanced in her direction just seconds before scoring a particularly difficult goal in Quidditch, thinking that it might impress her. I publicly displayed how well-versed I was in transfiguration to show her that I was not just a nuisance, that I was a brilliant wizard and one she should acknowledge. She was one of the few people who were simply and plainly unimpressed by anything I did and, furthermore, simply and plainly unimpressed by who I was.

Years of parading around like a twat and this entire time, all I had to do was score better than her on one bloody exam. Go figure.

* * *

Because of the effort I had invested into showing off for Lily Evans in the past, I naturally intended to keep the attention once I received it. After that first Ancient Runes test, my scores continued to float at the higher end of Doyle's grading spectrum and much of it due to the proud satisfaction I received from my elevated view from the top. I had a theory that attaining success in any form was the greatest method of gaining even more success. Once I got a truly good glimpse of triumph, there was little anyone I do to stop myself from wanting more and little anyone else could do to stop you me from getting it. At least, that is how it has always worked out. 

Either way, my achievements in the classroom surprised many, including Lily Evans and because of this surprise, she continued to speak to me in an almost friendly manner. I had impressed her and she could not understand how I had managed such to do so. Each time we spoke of our scores, she showed (and attempted to mask) a great sense of distress, either because her marks did not suit her or because mine happened to suit her more.

All this eventually bore consequential results. Things had never been better between Evans and I, save for the time before we ever met. We were cordial, civil, and some would even say, on occasion, friendly. For once she thought I was adequately responsible, relatively ambitious, and somewhat decent. Was it wrong for me not to want to disappoint her?

Before I knew it, I became more conscious of my actions and much of that consciousness stemmed from her recent tolerance of me. I did not want to confirm her past accusations about my lack of good character nor did I want to lose whatever respect I managed to earn in such short amount of time. I had no obligation to prove myself, but for some reason, I still wanted to.

The Marauders, of course, noticed the change in my actions and swore it was initiated by a renewed attraction to Lily Evans. That, however, was not the case. She was one of those few people; she had a natural air about her. People wanted to impress her. They wanted her recognition. We needed her respect. I was not exempt from any of it.

It wasn't an attraction. It was just something about Evans. Once I gained her respect, it was simply personal pride and that indefinable quality about her that made me eager to keep it.

* * *

The first time I realized that I needed to keep her respect, we were well into the academic year. Our group had met several times for Ancient Runes and I had also managed to miss several times. She tolerated my absences, but I could tell (for I was accustomed to identifying irritation in her voice) that any more would end in argument. Attendance was imperative. That was where my problem began. 

Because I had missed the previous meetings, the location and time of our next meeting were important facts that I needed to remember and also ended up being important facts that I always seemed to forget. She reminded me once in the Great Hall at lunch. I remembered it well, though not nearly well enough to know the details she had given me.

We had spotted each other in between the moving herd of students and sometime in the brief moment we passed each other, she shouted out, "Potter! We're meeting at eig—" before both she and her voice were swept away by the crowd.

I do not count that specific instance as my fault. I could not confidently say the same about the other two times Lily tried to remind me.

The second time, I barely remembered. It was right before class and I had slept less than any normal boy deserves to sleep which boiled down to a few restless hours. Lily Evans came up to me and I remember her speaking, though my eyes were drooping mid-sentence and my ears did not seem to be cooperating well with the rest of my body. I nodded to indicate understanding, though her instructions had not even registered in my head. I think, in reality, I nodded because the weight of my head was a tremendous burden for my neck to hold and I was too tired to care.

The third time she told me was the one I remembered most vividly either because I nearly got beheaded by a bludger while speaking to her or because I sent her away knowing that I had not and would not remember the location of our next meeting—mistake.

I tightened the grip on the handle of my broom, my eyes darting back and forth as the leather Quaffle passed from chaser to chaser. What broke my concentration, however, was a quick tap on the shoulder from Lawrence Day as he flew past me and pointed to a figure standing still on the field. I flew closer, stopping to hover above her and still manage to monitor the players.

"Evans, you realize I am in the middle of Quidditch practice, don't you?"

"I can see that, yes." She rolled her eyes as if to say that information was not relatively significant to her. Lily Evans regarded herself above trivialities such as Quidditch practice. I stared back blankly before returning my attention at the scrimmage which had not stopped simply because Lily Evans appeared.

"And you realize that I have quaffles flying past me and bludgers shooting at me, don't you?"

"I assume you would, considering you are playing Quidditch."

"So why then would you choose this time of all times to chat?" She paused and scowled at my comment, clearly absorbing it as a jab at her sanity.

"Well, you're always so preoccupied with everything else that I was worried you would forget about studying tonight and we can't keep pretending as if you're showing up and contributing when you're really not. Plus, I'm going to be in a Prefects meeting until then and I wanted to remind you in case you forgot."

"Well, thank you but I am perfectly capable of remembering a silly time and place."

"I'll wait until you show up tonight to assume that. So, eight o'clock in—"

It was at this moment that Chester Banning, one of our cheeky and slightly annoying beaters, sent the bludger straight at me, giving only a brief holler as warning—"Pay attention, Potter!" Instinctually, I pushed the handle of the broom sharply downwards to avoid any broken body parts or unnecessary trips to the Hospital Wing.

"Are you trying to kill me before our match, Banning? You're a Gryffindor, last time I checked."

"Are you here to play Quidditch or flirt about with your silly little girlfriend? Save it for the broom closets, won't you?"

I may have blushed at this point. If I did, I must have brushed it off as heat exhaustion or overexertion, certainly not embarrassment.

"Sorry about that, Potter." And she did look partially guilty, though I suspected the other part was entertained by my close shave with an angry bludger. "You heard me, though, didn't you?"

"Yes, yes, yes, don't worry. Anyway, I'm sure you have better things to do than nag me all day and I certainly have better things to do than get lectured for talking to you. See you then."

And just like that, I sent her away. It was my fault and thus, it was up to me to fix it. The thought of fighting with Lily Evans over my lack of responsibility after getting along for a record-breaking period of time was not appealing.

I went to the Marauders in hopes of discovering some unforeseen solution and, without knowing at the time, lit the spark of imagination that would eventually manifest into what I considered one of the greatest Marauder accomplishments ever.

* * *

"I have a gap of about eight minutes to cut the target off. It isn't a very large window of opportunity. So, the question is, how do I do it?" I proposed in a rather military fashion. "How do I calculate when and where the target will be without giving away position?" 

Peter forced down a chuckle and responded, "I don't know . . . Sir." He must've added that for cheek. Fixing his slumped posture, he straightened his back and stomped his feet together, then raising a right hand to his head in a mock salute before sitting down at the dinner table. Cheeky.

"Can we _not_ refer to Lily as 'the target,' please?" Remus sighed, setting down his plate next to mine. "It makes me think that we're on some sort of secret mission to trick her."

"In a way we are. Once again, James has stupidly forgotten an important piece of information drilled into his skull by Evans and must fix the problems caused by his lack of responsibility in order to appease her." Sirius grinned, pouring pumpkin juice into his flask. "It's simple and underhanded, yes, but isn't interaction with the female species always a bit rudimentary for dear ol' Prongs?"

"Oh piss off. If I recall correctly, Sirius Black, you are far cruder and more manipulative than any human being I have ever met."

"You're right. I'm such a dog." This he said with an attitude that became him. Sirius was one of the few people I knew who could parade around with the grandest displays of arrogance and have nearly every person around charmed. He could win over anyone with a single conversation, a power he felt no shame in flaunting.

"Why don't you just ask Gregory where you're meeting? Shouldn't he know?" Peter pointed out as he paused from buttering a roll.

"Merlin, Peter, don't you think I've thought of that already? Evans has Gregory drooling at her feet and he would snitch on me in an instant to gain favor. _Potter forgot where we were meeting…again_. _I don't understand how anyone can be so irresponsible._ I can just hear the snobbish voice of his selling me out. He just wants to shag her, you know."

"If I recall, you should be quite familiar with that feeling." Remus could be awfully cruel in his mockery.

"Let's not dwell on the gruesome details of my tasteless, irrational youth. Can we just get back to the task at hand?"

"No, not yet. I would like to delve further into this subject. Are you seriously saying that you have completely rid yourself of any attraction to Evans, even though she has gotten prettier over the years and even though you are on decent terms with her?"

"That is exactly what I am saying. It has never been this normal between us and, frankly, I am enjoying not having to bicker with her all the time. But I've already missed the past two group meetings and she already reminded me three times in the past week. If I don't show up or if I get there late or if I admit that I forgot what room we were meeting in, Lily Evans will possibly throw me off the North Tower and the rest of my sixth year will be just as unbearable between us as the beginning of it."

"Point well taken. So, for the sake of us all, how can we possibly arrange a coincidental meeting between Lily and James before eight o'clock this evening?"

"You can't. Girls are unpredictable. It is both scientifically and magically impossible to calculate how long a girl will take to get ready or where she intends to go when she is. They are never consistent and never predictable. It's what makes them so damn complicated." Sirius stated rather regretfully. "It seems like you're out of luck, mate. You and the rest of us, you and the rest of us."

"Bugger. If I positioned you all at key spots and you all sort of followed her, that might work, right?"

"You're stretching it, Prongs. She'd notice us lurking about the hallways, hiding in broom closets and around corners. It's not as if we have Invisibility Cloaks or hours of time to spare. I read about a tracking spell once, but it's complicated and I don't know enough about it to tell you anything specific, let alone perform it." Remus added, his brows furrowing in focused thought.

"Tracking spells are difficult, though. You actually have to physically _track_ them and follow them wherever they decide to go. The ideal would be to monitor a person from a distance. On paper or through one of those crystal balls they keep in the storerooms. I've only heard of pinpointing a person on paper, not actually observing their movements." Mumbled Sirius, as concentrated on the subject as the rest of us. I assume the subject had caught his interest for Sirius Black rarely put effort into anything if he wasn't interested.

"Yeah. It would be nice to mix the two though, huh?" Peter piped in, snapping us out of our intense, separate flows of thought. "You would think with all this magic, there was bound to be a way to combine spells."

It was quiet for a moment. We just stared at each other, the mind-gears whirling about and our range of senses extending no further than the area between the four of us. We were in the zone and nothing could distract us. This usually happened when we were on the verge of a genius idea and those sorts of things don't come along too often, so distractions were not options.

"Well, why don't we?" I blurted out, this time refocusing individual thought to collective group thought. We worked better that way. Four cunning minds were undoubtedly more useful than one brilliant one. "Peter said it—there is bound to be a way. We live in a magical world. Nothing is impossible."

"I'm almost certain it defies a whole lot of magical rules and conventions, but theoretically there should be something on combinatory magic. It's not common, but I'm sure it exists. The only problem is that the whole field is quite shaky and there is no telling how long the research would take. Do we really need such a difficult task in our sixth year, on top of N.E.W.T classes?"

"Sure. We've done more absurd things before, if you can recall. Why stop now?"

"It would certainly be useful to know where meddlesome Prefects are lurking about or where grimy Professors are waiting to catch wandering students."

"Like an extreme map of the school and Hogsmeade. It would certainly open doors to exploration and adventure."

"The Marauder way—I like it."

"It's decided then. I have a good feeling about this. It's in the gut and that's when you know it's a good idea. It's in the gut, my friends. The gut!"

And amidst the brainstorming and outpouring of creative activity, I forgot about my scheme to follow Lily Evans to our Ancient Runes group meeting. I would figure something out, even if it meant subjecting myself to her scrutiny. I would survive.

After all, I always did.

* * *

**Author's Note (continued): **

The previous version had James once again considering pursuit of Lily, which worked out decently, but I don't think it made much sense. He has not asked her out since fifth year (currently sixth) and they are finally moving towards being on decent terms. While I think James does have a lingering (and denied) attraction, I don't imagine him to be the kind of person to just regress and go back to how things were. More than that, I think a lot of his actions in regards to Lily are fueled by a few things: attraction (obviously), curiosity, challenge, and a desire to be acknowledged. She was not and is not the kind of girl who is impressed by ridiculous antics or bigheadedness, so for him to finally gain some favor with her is paramount. Why would he ruin that by trying to woo her in a way that has never produced favorable results? On top of that, after he stopped asking her out and such, why would he all of the sudden go back? Though James can be somewhat shallow, he is clearly someone who values friendship and would do what he could to maintain a civil relationship with Lily because he does, in fact, think highly of her (even just platonically). Of course, he still wants to impress her, but perhaps this time for more noble reasons than simply romance. This is basically the thought process I went through while trying to rewrite this chapter and still make things work as I want them to. It might not necessarily make sense to you guys, but hopefully the story will.

Oh, and in response to **Shoelia**: The first lesson is the one in which James tells Lily that they should be friends. The whole portrait thing happens after, though still at the beginning of the year (probably within the first week or so). I had it differently in the older versions, so if you read those maybe you remember from there. Or, maybe I slipped up. Oops! Of course, in this latest chapter, James goes back to address his experiences in Ancient Runes from the beginning of the year. The narration jumps around a lot, so it's easy to get confused with the years and time periods and such. Hopefully I can clarify things enough!

So, if you got through this—bravo! Even if you didn't, please review! I could really use all the feedback and encouragement! Thanks so much!


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